


You Return on Clouds and Breath

by adjuvantQasida



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: (Mara and Sjur are both 4 millennia old and Petra is still like 200), Age Difference, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, lore spoilers sorry, specific kinks and pairings in titles of each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2019-07-25 06:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16191650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adjuvantQasida/pseuds/adjuvantQasida
Summary: A collection of smut shorts for Kinktober 2018, but it's all variants on Sjur/Mara/Petra, because Bungie knows exactly how to reel my dumb gay ass in.





	1. Day 1 - Masks - Sjur/Petra

**Author's Note:**

> [Title taken from "Oh Fury the Dawn Emerges from Your Lips," in turn from The Equestrian Turtle, by César Moro, translated by Leslie Bary and Esteban Quispe.](https://www.asymptotejournal.com/poetry/cesar-moro-the-equestrian-turtle/)
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> I am writing these mildly out of order and have tried to build up a bit of a backlog, so excuse me as they post after the days the prompts were meant for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other tags for Day 1: semi-anonymous sex, disguises, semi-public sex

It’s Perihelion, and the Reef’s halls are strung with witch-lights, every Awoken in disguise. Petra laid out her outfit this morning - a set of clothing no one she knows has seen her purchase or wear, in colors she normally would not choose or be allowed to don, and a mask, to hide her face. Her hair she hid by braiding the bulk of it in one simple mass over her smaller mourning braids. Her mask has no visible holes for eyes. Other than her hair color and stature, and the knife she keeps hidden close to her body, there will be no clues to tell who she is.

All day the Awoken go around, playing harmless pranks, sharing food with strangers, and looking for partners. Petra has kisses stolen by someone disguised as a Guardian, complete with a paper replica of a ram-horned helmet, and a pair of not-Crows going about the asteroids to cause mischief. By the time she makes it out to where the bulk of her people are gathered- still early in the morning- she is already passing by couples and triples fleeing discreetly down alleys and through crannies. But she feels no need to find a partner yet. The day passes in a warm haze of potential and good feeling.

At last, as the lights dim to approximate dusk, she rounds a corner and nearly runs into the tallest Awoken she knows wearing the mask of a great cat. Petra’s lip twitches as she tries not to laugh, and Sjur Eido notices, and the two of them come together, two sides of a trap springing shut.

“Something funny, Highness?” Sjur growls, hands finding their way down through layers of bright gold-and-lavender fabric. “Appreciating my costume?”

Then Petra can’t help but laugh, muffling it by nipping Sjur’s collarbone where her cloak has fallen open. No other Awoken is the approximate height and build of a Fallen captain; Sjur Eido cannot disguise herself.

Of course, since Petra can, there’s no reason for them not to indulge.

“Nothing funny, lioness,” Petra assures her, voice hitching as those calloused fingertips find her skin. “Only my joy to tangle with you.”

She’d swear Sjur purrs. They discard much of her clothing there in their alcove, the streets growing quiet, Sjur’s fingers tracing each scar and indent and fold, down to where they can dip between Petra’s legs and find her to be embarrassingly wet. When she gasps and tries to reciprocate, Sjur bats her hand away and actually lifts her up to brace her back against the wall, draping one leg over each shoulder.

“Oh _fuck,”_ Petra blurts out, fingers weaving into Sjur’s mane. The whiskers on her mask tickle her thighs as Sjur’s mouth takes her apart. Above the two of them whirls violet space, watching through the electronic visor of Petra's mask. It is Perihelion, and they are home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sjur in the locker rooms the next day, visibly blushing, trying to keep her cool by pretending it was totally anonymous sex and she didn't find petra's knife in her costume while taking it off: haha nice marks. did someone hoist you up on a brick wall or what


	2. Day 2 - Begging, Petra/Sjur/Mara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other tags for Day 2: edging, bondage but it's just Mara Sov telling you to stay put

“What was that?” she hears Petra ask happily.

“You heard me the first time,” Sjur spits. Mara’s slim fingers remind her to stay put, a kind of ethereal bondage none of them will break. “You don't need it again.”

“My apologies, fellow Wrath,” Petra says very seriously. “I’m going deaf.” Behind her, Mara shakes with the tiniest bit of silent laughter. “Please tell me again.”

Her fingers are hooked into Sjur, three of them, moving in tandem with the vibrator over her clit. There's sweat pooling at her collarbone and dripping from her hairline. Every time Petra curls her fingers, she wants to buck and twist away and stay there forever and never have this end.

The vibrator disappears for the fourth time.

_“Please!”_ howls Sjur Eido.


	3. Day 3 - Sensory Deprivation - Mara/Sjur/Petra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other tags for Day 3: bondage, D/s, subspace, I'm sure there's a kink for being ignored during sex but I don't know what it's called

A haze descends on her, and each minute becomes meaningless. She hears Mara and Sjur, murmurs and slick sounds and sometimes a cry or a curse, for half an hour or half a year. Her world is composed of warmth and the soft, purple-tinged light filtering through her eyelids and the cloth above them. She is content. She is more than content, so full of mad, grateful joy that it must be leaking out somehow.

She will be here, curled on the rug at the foot of the bed, until they need her. Until they reach for her. That's all they'll ask of her, these ones she loves. Easier than breathing.

Movement from the bed brings her, at last, out of whatever place she's gone to. One hand trails down her spine and lower back, over her ass. Obediently, she spreads her thighs as best she can. The clips on her bonds clink softly as she does, and another hand trails through her hair. It pauses a moment by her head so she can kiss it. That one must be Mara. She presses her cheek to those fingers; lower, Sjur’s larger hand cups her thigh.

Petra's never felt she deserves much, but this she thinks she might.


	4. Day 4 - Mirrors - Mara/Sjur/Petra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other tags for Day 4: gags, rope bondage, oral sex, rumors I guess

“Um,” Petra said eloquently as she looked up at the ceiling.

“Would you believe she did this while I was away for six months?” Sjur ventured. “I came back and she'd remodeled my spare bedroom.”

“That spare bedroom was in the Distributary, before I was born,” Petra said. “So- no.”

Sjur shrugged. “Worth a try.”

It at least wasn't their usual bedroom, just the room next door. Smaller, easier to work on-

“I'm going to be hearing rumors about this for months, aren't I?” she asked rhetorically.

“We bribed the workers pretty well,” Sjur said with another shrug. “It might not be so bad.”

 _It’ll be bad,_ Petra thought to herself, and dropped it.

Mara might have been the one to come up with the mirror on the ceiling. Actually, she probably was. Over four millennia, her vanity had become less some kind of moral failing and more a strategic tool she'd come to enjoy, while Sjur was brutally practical in her appearance and almost always picked function over fashion. But Sjur was probably the one to suggest continuing to use it after the initial remodel. If her ideas for the bedroom didn't receive a vocal approval, Petra had realized, Mara would not repeat them.

Not that she could repeat anything at the moment, gagged and bound looking up at the ceiling. It was always a strange sight in the best way. The self-assurance Mara wore as a second skin never wavered, even when wearing nothing but a lot of well-tied violet ropes. They set off her skin well. Sjur had even been kind and tied one over the delicate line of her hipbone- she and Petra both loved to nip at it, and Mara hated the sensation deeply. Farther up, the small black ball of the gag peeked obscenely between her lips.

Petra's eyes flicked back to the mirror and, with a jolt, met Mara’s, quicksilver and impenetrable. She'd been watching her examine her body the whole time. Then her gaze was drawn lower in the reflective surface as her Queen’s thighs slowly fell open.

Petra wet her lips. “Did you have any specific plans?”

A few minutes later, with her tongue lapping slowly at Mara's clit, Petra threaded her fingers through the ropes on the bottom of her thighs. Sjur murmured lowly in their lover's ear, one hand patiently circling her nipples, brushing a thumb over them to make her hips jump. And Mara, trapped in place, eyes darting between the two of them, actually whimpered.

“All right,” Petra said, pulling back for a moment to get a bit more air. Mara whimpered again at the loss of stimulation; her own cunt clenched in sympathy. “This was a good idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, shout out to the 5 people who've left kudos. Glad you seem to be enjoying my sin bin. Question: since I missed a day of posting, if I manage to get a day ahead at some point, would you want two chapters in one day? Or just keep uploading daily?
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> EDIT: thank you so much for the surge in kudos/comments! I'm sorry to say I've caught a pretty gross illness and will probably be delayed another few days - hard to write about sex when I feel like this...


	5. Day 5 - Sadism/Masochism - Mara/Petra(/Sjur)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other tags for Day 5: D/s, caning, flogging, exhibitionism/voyeurism (kinda), bruising, psychic connections, off-label use of techeun abilities

When Mara had to force her hand to uncurl at the end of her final meeting, it diverted her thoughts away from arranging the future and towards her own discomfort. She'd sat there for nine hours, trying with all her power to negotiate a workable settlement with Zavala. No progress had been made. The only thing she had to show for her work was, possibly, some damage to her enamel where she had been clenching her jaw.

“I don't think he's egotistical enough to outright say he’ll bow to no one,” Sjur noted, “but he's probably the least flexible person we have to deal with.”

“Egotistical?” Mara said, trying to mask her deep irritation at everything with indifference.

Sjur’s eyes fell on hers, caught there. “It's endearing. And anyway, you're only really egotistical when someone challenges you who you don't think deserves to.”

A flaring star of stifled anger burst in her chest, fed up in a way she so rarely reached. “He doesn't.”

“My favorite despot,” Sjur said, the prickliest bits of Mara always bringing out the sweetest parts of her. Mara felt greed roaring in her ears: she would gladly hoard that affection like a mythical wyrm, steal it for herself and parcel it out only as she felt acceptable. “Your plans for the rest of the evening?” And she reached out her hand, intending to give Mara her affection now that no one else was there.

Mara knew she wasn’t coolheaded enough to reciprocate.

“You may want to send Petra to me before I get any more despotic,” she told her, pressing her fingertips to Sjur’s in apology. “And then, if we are lucky, a quiet evening.”

Sjur's eyebrows jumped, though not as much as they had the first time and (Mara hoped) not as much as they would after another occurrence or two. “I can tell her to return to our wing. Is this going to be the same as last time?”

“Yes,” said Mara bluntly.

“Can I stay and watch?”

* * *

They walked side-by-side back to the tower as Mara grasped for the answers to Sjur's questions, both of them a little uncertain of the ground they stood on.

“If my edges are too sharp,” Mara said at last as they stepped out of the sunlight, “you love me anyway. But Petra loves sharp edges.” They took the stairway up, her voice low to avoid carrying. “At times you have tried to push me onto paths better for those around us. An important task, one someone less stubborn or independent could not do. On the other hand, if I should need to be unchanging and cruel…”

They turned the last corner. Petra was talking to the guard outside the door.

“...Petra craves my cruelty,” Mara said. “She gives it a purpose.”

“So she lets you work out some tyrannical impulses on her, and you feel less bad about having them because she enjoys it,” Sjur interpreted. “Don't scowl at me. I know you dislike your imperfections.”

“My expression didn't change,” Mara said coolly, letting Sjur know she'd been right, and then they were in earshot. “Petra, inside. You are dismissed for the evening,” she added to the guardswoman. “Two Wraths will be enough.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the woman replied, and beat a wise and hasty retreat.

* * *

Inside, Sjur poured water into two cups, draining half of one and passing the other to Mara. “Is this the sort of thing where I should be asking you what to pour for her?”

Mara, in her infinite grace, bestowed upon her a deeply irritated look. “Yes. Give her water, too.” Petra, who had been fastening the locks on the door, raised an eyebrow at them.

“I said she was in a mood,” Sjur told her. “Do you care if I watch?”

“Sjur,” said Mara, “one more word and I will gag you until we are done. Petra, if you have objections to Sjur watching, make them. If not, strip.”

In quick succession, Petra's eye widened and instinctively glanced down; her face flushed violet; and one hand, tentative, crept up and began undoing the fastening under the fur at her neck.

“Good,” said Mara in her queen's voice, implacable. Both of them shivered. “Sjur, sit down.” The arc of her arm indicated the three armchairs on one side of the room. Sjur picked her usual seat and turned around to see Petra down to her vambraces and the undersuit all Corsairs wore, Mara at the inlaid cabinet by the wall, removing various boxes with deliberate movements. Petra shivered noticeably - maybe a draft, Sjur thought, but then caught the aborted flicker of her eye starting to look towards Mara. The sound of the boxes, then. Sjur had certainly enjoyed some of the contents of that cabinet before.

“Finish undressing,” Mara ordered. Her voice was a lash. Petra's fingers moved faster. When she bent over to pull the undersuit off of her calves, Sjur saw the flush of her cunt, the glint of wetness between her thighs.

* * *

Mara set her selections on the cabinet and closed the doors: a crop, a leather flogger, a thick mat, and, just in case, the box that held all the usual necessities. Then she turned to check in on her lovers. The sight forced her to repress a snort of laughter, cutting into her mood a bit: Petra, dumping her suit in the laundry, was completely oblivious to the way Sjur was blatantly eyeing her ass.

Then Petra turned back around, and she returned to the business at hand.

“Here,” Mara ordered her, dropping the mat on the ground and pointing down. Wordlessly, Petra knelt on it, eye darting to look at her and skittering away again as soon as their gazes met. Mara tapped her toe to the inside of one knee and Petra resettled her weight, opening her legs and leaning back on her haunches. “Keep that position until I allow you otherwise.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Petra said, voice hoarse with the anticipation Mara could, at this point, nearly feel from her.

She picked up the crop. Behind her, Sjur swallowed; Mara set the knowledge of her presence aside. Petra shivered once more.

“Count,” she ordered, and delivered a swift hit to the inside of Petra's left thigh.

To Petra's credit, she didn't miss a beat, saying “one” clearly even while she stifled the jump of her muscles. Mara felt something in her belly shift, covetous and toothy. Instead of fighting it, she delivered the next blow, and Petra obediently counted “two,” just that little bit hoarser than she had been.

These hits she kept purposefully fast and relatively light. She had thought of the image she would create at a particularly trying point in hour eight of her negotiations, and it had allowed her to retain her outward calm: three identical bruises down the interior of her thighs, not deep enough to hamper her movements. Just enough so that she and Sjur would be able to press their fingers against the marks and instantly remind Petra of this, forcing her to shiver and drag her attention back to whatever she was doing. Just covering enough skin so that Petra wouldn't risk showering with the other Corsairs after sparring, would traipse back with Sjur to clean up here and flush when her comrades asked, laughing, where she had bitemarks this time. With the crop she sketched them out. Each time she struck, she struck a little harder, layering vertical hits on top of each other. Petra's voice led her on, her tone turning pleading and overwhelmed by turns, letting Mara know when to redistribute her blows and when to press onward.

When they reached eighty-five, Petra's count broke on a cry that was much more pain than pleasure. Mara captured her chin and tilted her face up. “Can you stand five more?”

Petra looked at her, pleading silently, and nodded without hesitation.

Five more, then. Mara bent to feel Petra's thighs, felt her jump and huff out air when she pressed her finger into one of her marks. She was trying to hold back her noises again. Mara felt this was unnecessary- she both used those noises to guide her sadism and enjoyed them to a degree she was not prepared to admit aloud- but now was not the time. There would be ample opportunity _later_ to train Petra in that regard.

Five more.

She straightened from where her fingers had paused, returned the crop to her dominant hand. Then Mara swung again. Petra made a choked whimper, then gasped, “eighty-six.”

By ninety, Petra had almost stopped counting. Her eye was wide and glossy, her mouth just slightly open, and Mara suspected she might actually have dripped on the mat. Her left hand drifted to her Wrath's nape, the underside of her jaw, the smooth skin of her cheek, then finally, finally it found its way to her braids, the pale skin just visible between each woven bunch of hair, and pressed gently.

Mara could feel her there: untaught and imperfect, for she'd only had the first of the Techeun's implants, and few of the lessons on its use. Petra would never be able to send her voice using her mind instead of her throat. But with physical contact here Mara could feel a taste of what she felt; and she did, and she wrapped herself entirely in it. Petra was a maelstrom. An eternal plummet, with a single ragged note to keen, riding high on adrenaline and pain and loyalty- loyalty that recognized Mara's own mind and burned hotter for her presence, just as reverent as terrified and as terrified as in love.

Gently, Mara settled the jaws of her will around Petra's throat and held her there. At a distance her younger Wrath's cry echoed. In the physical world she stooped, careful to maintain contact with Petra (how terrible, to break this touch now- a cruelty without calculation or intent) and, after grasping at air for a moment, caught the flogger.

When she brought it around in an arc that ended on Petra's back, she _felt_ her melt into the sensation. Her muscles relaxed, her body leaned into the flogger, and Mara heard or felt her moan. Through the filter of Petra's mind the much softer sensation didn't feel like pain at all; each tiny hit spread a soaring feeling that, in the mind, felt a bit like fog. Let free from the pain of the caning, they drifted on half-realized seas.

Within the two of them, Petra caught her own wordless gratitude/happiness/submission/dazed glee and offered it up to her- and Mara revelled in it. She smiled, and she kept it for herself.

Some time later, they slowly came apart. Mara's fingers broke away from Petra's scalp. She was aware, faintly, that both arms were tired: what she could see of Petra's back was flushed. She'd continued the flogging until Petra had begun to register discomfort.

“Okay,” said Sjur, who they had completely forgotten about. When Mara collected herself enough to find her with her eyes, she had to smile again, slow with exhaustion as she was. Sjur's cup of water lay discarded on the ground. So did her pants and undergarments. One hand lay well-used between her own legs. “I don't know what I expected. Very confusing, but- also hot?”

“Talk about it later,” Mara ordered. “Aftercare first. You're being conscripted, so come pick her up.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Sjur said with mock contrition. But she picked up Petra with remarkable delicacy, and bore her to the baths while kissing her hair; and so Mara was well-pleased. Sated for the time being and ready to return to the arrangement of the future.

Perhaps their personal future, she thought idly. Sjur could hardly take her eyes off Petra's thighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Mind melding with your sub is the Mara "Most Extra" Sov version of checking in with them to make sure they're still having a good time~~
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> Thank you to everyone who reads these! You fill my dumb gay heart with joy.
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> A quick update on my priority list for all my fics (since I know some of the people reading this are doing it because they enjoy my Overwatch stuff):
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> 1\. The Overwatch Big Bang that I signed up for before I caught the plague last month. I have deadlines coming up on this, so it's a big priority for me.  
> 2\. This collection, since the farther I get from October, the more embarrassed I am about not finishing it on time. Also, I hyperfocused real bad on the Awoken and I want to write more of these three.  
> 3\. Don't Go Far Off, which will probably be written concurrently with this fic, since it's got more plot to its name.
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> If you would like to talk to me or know what is going on with me fic-wise, I am back to using tumblr. My username is **cocytus-sr4**.


	6. Day 6 - Biting - Sjur/Petra(/Mara)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other tags for Day 6: outsider POV (kind of), voyeurism, fingering, Petra and Sjur both watch awoken ultimate surrender

A cloudy day, and Mara is seated in her window, above a courtyard. She has vanished the pane of the window to allow fresh air in. Beneath her the courtyard is nearly bare. Smooth stones, violet and gray and luminous black and white shot through with shadows. Other apertures yawn invitingly.

"That's too high, I think," Sjur says from somewhere below.

She exhales through her nostrils in amusement. Her Wraths _are_ taking to each other- by argument, by sharp edge, and by frustration, since Petra's worked through the worst of her reservations and is now giving as good as she gets. It's not that she can't find one without the other lately. It's that they recursively seek each other out. Her lovers migrate back to each other at least four or five times a day, always separating again so they can struggle more later.

She's seen the glint of new things in Petra's eye, heady and rich. They deserve some time to enjoy their circling.

"You're the one that _put_ it there," Petra says, voice strained.

Mara hears Sjur's shrug with a sense that's not hearing. Familiarity, maybe. "True. I'll have to try again."

Movement. Petra hops the windowsill smoothly, landing on her feet and backing up out of arm's reach. Her corsair's-suit is falling around her neck and collarbone. Someone has torn the fabric down to the top of her sternum. In the shadows she jumped from, Mara can see Sjur grinning, teeth white.

"Maybe I'm not going to let you try again," Petra says boldly. "You should already know where you can mark me."

"Maybe I'm going to run you down and try again anyway," Sjur says, a hungry thing.

Mara sees Petra start to process that thought- which she knows Sjur has whetted in her, given the sly remarks about hunting trips and the trail maps laid out on Sjur's desk- just as her other Wrath lunges forward. Petra lunges in turn, away and to the side, trying to make it through a second window. She's not quite fast enough and gets cut off. Sjur, enjoying herself, slows down to a menacing but steady advance.

Petra suffers, Mara thinks, the same problem in nearly every way when it comes to Sjur. She's less experienced. Sjur has four thousand years, give or take, of being an extremely tall and strong brawler.

Petra has about three months of trying to non-fatally spar with an extremely tall and strong brawler of four thousand years' experience. She has yet to find a viable strategy. So when Sjur closes the distance, Petra finds herself pinned to the wall, fingers dug uselessly in at the neck. She tries to force Sjur's knee to the side, to make her readjust her weight or let that weight damage her leg. Very neatly, Sjur leans out of danger, slips her other leg between Petra's, and uses the distraction to flip her.

Petra says something _extremely_ foul to the wall.

"Yeah, I am!" Sjur tells her with a smile. One of her hands is enough to trap both of Petra's over their heads. Mara can see exactly how that fact isn't lost on Petra, how she shivers to find her wrists immovable. Sjur uses her other hand to tug at the undersuit, widening the tear and resettling it: the skin at the apex of Petra's neck is soft and barely flushed with exertion. Mara swallows.

Sjur leans in closer, whispers something in Petra's ear. Mara thinks she sees her thighs shake. She definitely hears the muffled whine as Sjur bends further and bites her.

"You bastard, I'm never going to be able to explain these away," Petra gasps for air.

Sjur raises her head in return. "The only people who are going to see them are your old corsair squad, anyway. I kind of thought you got off on them asking?"

Petra hisses something Mara can't quite make out and tries to throw an elbow. Sjur lets her connect, ignores the blow. Bends back in to sink her teeth in once more. Petra yelps, then manages to say, "at least give me something to distract me-"

"You just want fingers," Sjur gasps as she breaks for air at last.

Her other Wrath laughs. "When don't I?"

Sjur snorts, abandons the point. She presses a leg between Petra's, uses her other hand to angle Petra's hips just so. Mara hears another half-stifled whine. "I don't think I should reward you _before_ I'm finished biting you. I think I should make you take it, and then reward you." When she says "reward you" the second time, she lets go of Petra's hips and trails her fingers down her spine instead.

The fight visibly goes out of Petra, and she relaxes against Sjur's hold. Mara feels Sjur smile without being able to see her face. From the movement of her arm and the way Petra shivers, she must do something to her front (Mara teases herself, thinking about what it might be- her breast, her stomach, her thighs; she knows Sjur would not give her any more than that at the moment). Then she turns her around, letting go of her wrists, to settle her back against the wall. One hand comes up to cup her cheek.

Petra kisses her wrist tenderly, and the two of them soften into each other. Then she twists and, from the look of it, sinks her own teeth into Sjur's shoulder. Mara hears Sjur's unashamed and unmuffled groan and shivers.

"Oh," she pants. "I _see."_

The pair of them end on the ground, pinning and trying to pin, struggling to fight evenly, painting themselves onto each other. Red marks bloom over their necks and shoulders. Petra discovers her real advantage, which is that Sjur is wearing pants and a shirt, and is therefore easier to access, while Sjur is forced to rip and tear at the undersuit. Petra's clever fingers (Mara thinks fondly of how clever) make her swear. Finally she manages to get her hand into Petra's suit, makes her moan- makes her latch back onto Sjur's neck to keep a little bit quieter. To give as good as she gets.

Two women awake with friction and the unwillingness to lose. They almost glow against her amethyst: Mara loves them. They cry out against each others' shoulders, moving as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I posted to this I've picked up a job, and also another job, and a dog with some Issues, etc. So while I'm determined to finish it I won't be surprised if it takes another whole October. (That's fine, gives me more choice of prompts.)
> 
> Current Tumblr is formerly-cocytus-sr4... I joined and marked myself as NSFW as I could, to keep minors out of it, and then they banned porn right afterwards and I can't post to tags or anything anymore. Eventually I will remake under the correct url. Would love to hear from you! (Prompts encouraged.)
> 
> Big thank you to everyone who's given kudos, commented, and/or bookmarked.


End file.
